


Something to Talk About

by butihavejoy (kjack89)



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Vers, Set During Flashback, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/butihavejoy
Summary: Maria laughed and shook her head. “Here, I’ll go put some good songs on the jukebox and you and I are gonna dance and drink and not give a crap what the asshole flyboys think.”Carol propped her chin on her hand and grinned at her. “You know they talk about us, right?”Maria smirked. “Of course,” she said. “And personally, I think we should give ‘em something to talk about.”Carol’s grin sharpened. “Challenge accepted.”





	Something to Talk About

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer — I own absolutely nothing except my own stupidity for walking into Captain Marvel and walking out feeling very, _very_ gay with a whole new ship on my hands. Just a short little thing because I couldn't resist. 
> 
> My only knowledge of Captain Marvel comes from the film, so forgive any comics-related mistakes. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Carol and Maria clinked their beer glasses together, both sporting identical grins as they relaxed in a booth at Pancho’s. “Hell of a week, huh?” Maria said contemplatively as she took a sip, glancing around the bar.

Carol laughed and shook her head. “You say that every week.”

“Have I been wrong yet?” Maria countered. When Carol just laughed, her grin turned triumphant. “See?”

Carol rolled her eyes and took a long pull from her beer as the door to the bar opened. Maria’s expression fell. “Flyboys, six o'clock,” she murmured, and Carol made a face.

“Just when I thought the night was off to a good start,” she muttered.

Maria laughed and shook her head. “Here, I’ll go put some good songs on the jukebox and you and I are gonna dance and drink and not give a crap what the asshole flyboys think.”

Carol propped her chin on her hand and grinned at her. “You know they talk about us, right?”

Maria smirked. “Of course,” she said. “And personally, I think we should give ‘em something to talk about.”

Carol’s grin sharpened. “Challenge accepted.”

Of course, as soon as Maria left to make her way to the jukebox, the pilots decided Carol was fair game. While she was able to fend off most of them, there was one particular specimen of asshole who decided that his best way to win her over was by belittling her.

His mistake.

“You  _ do _ know why they call it a cockpit.”

The man’s sneer was nothing Carol hadn’t seen before, nothing she hadn’t seen in this very bar, but there was something about this night, something about his smirk in the dim light of the bar, that made her want to put her fist into those perfect teeth.

So she did.

Not even fifteen minutes later, Maria had an iron grip on her arm as she pulled her away from the melee her punch has caused, dragging her outside and seemingly oblivious to Carol’s attempts to yank her arm from her grasp. “C’mon,” Carol said through gritted teeth, her eyes wild, her jaw set. “Let me back in there.”

“You, sit.” Maria ordered, pointing at a crate around the side of the bar. 

Carol sat, but she still glared at Maria. “You don’t think I could take them?” she challenged.

“Fifteen against one?” Maria asked, gently grabbing Carol by the chin and tilting her head just slightly so she better see the shiner blossoming across Carol’s cheekbone. “I’ve seen you beat worse odds.” She released Carol’s chin and gave her a look. “Pretty sure your nose is broken.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Carol muttered mutinously.

Maria rolled her eyes. “Stay here,” she said. “I’m gonna go see if I can sneak through the crowd of testosterone and get you some ice for that before it swells.”

“I can always get it for myself,” Carol offered, somewhat hopefully, and Maria just scowled at her.

“What part of stay here do you not understand?” Maria asked, with fond exasperation.

Carol just smirked, though her smirk quickly changed into a wince. “Fine,” she said, tipping her head back against the wall. “Just promise to hit a couple of those assholes on your way.”

Maria laughed before ducking back inside the bar, and Carol sighed. 

She didn’t know why, after all this time, men like that asshole could still get under her skin. She was supposed to have grown out of it by now, supposed to have developed a tougher skin after literal decades of being told she couldn’t do things because she had the misfortune of being born a girl, but for some reason…

Well, for some reason, sometimes her emotions got the better of her.

She heard the door to Pancho’s open and sighed. “Back so soon?” she asked. “I thought—”

She broke off when she realized it wasn’t Maria who had reappeared from the bar, but rather Mr. Cockpit himself, glaring flatly at her as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Disappointed?” he asked with a wry sort of smile.

“Perpetually,” Carol said dryly.

He chuckled and took a drag from his cigarette. “How about we call it a truce?” he offered. “You and I both know I’m not exactly in charge of Air Force policy.”

Carol’s expression didn’t change. “Sure,” she said shortly. “Truce.”

He leaned against the wall, looking down at her in a way that made Carol feel like she desperately needed a shower. “Good,” he said. “Because I’d hate to think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Carol had nothing to say to that and so stayed silent, her unamused expression not shifting. Something darkened briefly in the man’s expression before evening out again. “You’re a hell of a fighter, I’ll give you that,” he said, with an easy, lascivious grin. “I like a little fight in my women.”

“Excuse me?” Carol asked coldly.

His smirk widened as he dragged his gaze slowly down her body, lingering uncomfortably long on her chest. “Yeah, I like ‘em feisty. And, uh, even if the Air Force won’t let you, I’d be happy to take you for a ride in my cockpit anytime.”

Carol was on her feet in a blink, her hands curling automatically into fists, but before she could take even a step towards him, Maria stepped between them, a dishrag full of ice in her hand. “Sorry, pal,” she said with a cold smile. “This is a no fly zone.”

Without a second look at him, Maria turned back to Carol, as clear a dismissal as anything, and the guy lost his fake charm, spitting on the ground at Maria’s feet. “Fucking dykes,” he spat. 

Carol’s eyes flashed and Maria shot her a warning glance. But Carol didn’t move, just stared coldly at him over Maria’s shoulder. “Even if we are, all that means is you’re still not getting any.”

The guy spat at them again, but he clearly knew a losing battle when he saw one, storming off to the parking lot. Carol managed a small, tight smile before glancing at Maria. “You ok?” she asked quietly.

Maria looked almost amused. “Pretty sure I’m supposed to be asking you that,” she said, handing the dishrag over to Carol, who pressed it against her nose and winced at the cold.

“I meant about being called a dyke,” she said, prodding her nose experimentally.

Maria shrugged, looking unconcerned. “Not the first time, won’t be the last.” She leaned against the wall. “And not the worst thing I’ve been called, either.” Carol nodded slowly, staring off into the distance, and Maria glanced at her. “What about you?”

“Not the worst I’ve been called either,” Carol told her, and she deliberately looked away before adding, “Besides, I learned a long time ago that they can’t hurt you by calling you what you are.”

Maria smiled slowly, something brightening in her expression. “They sure can’t,” she said before shaking her head and laughing. “What a pair we make, huh?”

Carol grinned as well. “Damn right.”

Maria reached out to cup Carol’s cheek, running the pad of her thumb lightly over the bruise on her cheekbone. For one long moment, they stayed like that, standing just a little too close together in the dim light outside the bar.

Then Maria caught sight of something over Carol’s shoulder and her hand dropped down her side, taking a step back. “We should get going,” she said, looking wary. “We got an audience.”

“You afraid of what they’re gonna say about us?” Carol asked archly, her grin back in place.

“Of course not,” Maria scoffed.

“Good,” Carol said, wrapping an arm around Maria’s waist as they headed toward the parking lot. “Because here I was thinking we sure as hell gave them something to talk about.”

Maria laughed and shook her head. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
